


Lost, Found, Smathers

by Quietlemonhush



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Auror James Potter, Auror Sirius Black, BAMF Remus Lupin, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, physical violence, sap, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21771145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietlemonhush/pseuds/Quietlemonhush
Summary: Sirius is missing. James is worried. Remus is angry. Fenrir is vengeful. Smathers is Smathers.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 310





	Lost, Found, Smathers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains kidnapping and violence, although (spoiler alert) it all turns out okay in the end. There’s a brief reference to child abuse.
> 
> It also contains Auror Smathers. You’re gonna hate that guy.
> 
> Amhurst isn’t a place in England to my knowledge. I made it up with no regard to real geography because I didn’t want to look on Google Maps.

It took Remus and James five hours to find him.

—

Sirius was halfway across the field, tracking some magic that shouldn’t have been there, moonlight illuminating the grass. It was a high summer moon, nearly full, full enough that Remus would be itching and uncomfortable. The tattoo on Sirius’ left wrist mirrored the moon above him, a watch of how wild Remus’ blood would be pounding. He should be at home. But there was magic here, something curious and dark, and this was a muggle village, no wizards or witches in sight. Something was wrong.

He had noticed it first that afternoon, summoned to the village to deal with what the Ministry thought was a werewolf and what turned out to be a pack of stray dogs making off with sheep. If James was on duty, he would’ve called him for backup for this second visit. But James was at home with Lily. Paternity leave. Sirius had been assigned a substitute partner, Smathers, who was as dumb as a box of bricks. Remus would’ve said he was being unfair, that working alone was dangerous. Which is why he wasn’t telling Remus. 

A quick visit out to a sleepy muggle village. What could he need back up for?

He crouched as he neared the barn. The magic burned brighter here, but not solid. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t cast with a wand, or by anyone who knew how to use a wand. It was misshapen and burnt. Sirius inched forward, listening intently. A magical creature? An experiment gone awry? He pressed his ear against the wall of the barn, but heard nothing.

He didn’t hear anything, in fact, until something crashed over his head, heavy enough to send him instantly to his knees, his wand skittering away across the dirt. He groaned, lurching towards it, but strong arms caught him, pinned his wrists behind his back. The world was twisting around him, dizzy and cockeyed. He thought distantly of Remus calling him an idiot. 

“Hello, pup,” a sharp voice said. Sirius’ hair was pulled until he looked up at the man in front of him. He had moon bright eyes, golden and feral, and a dangerous smile. 

“Do I know you?” Sirius slurred, and frowned at the sound of his own voice. He sounded drunk. That was a bad sign.

The man crouched, face close to Sirius’. He smelled like blood. “Not yet. But I know all about you.”

“S’always nice to meet a fan,” Sirius said, listing sideways. “Untie me an’ I’ll sign your chest.”

The man laughed, and Sirius was hauled to his feet and thrown over someone’s shoulders. He watched the ground pass by until he lost consciousness.

—

“Padfoot home?” James asked, his head appearing in the fireplace and startling Remus’ dinner plate out of his hand.

“Godric and Rowena, Prongs!” Remus shouted as shards of plate and globs of pasta splattered all over the floor. “You could say hello!”

“Hi Moony. Is Padfoot home?” James asked with unusual impatience.

Remus scowled over his shoulder, waving his wand to clean the mess. “No. Your wife is still at work.”

“He isn’t,” James said, and by now it was clear he was frustrated, which gave Remus pause, because James was never frustrated, not at him. “I floo’d Smathers. He said Sirius went home an hour ago.”

“Did Sirius give him the slip? He hates that man for the sin of not being you.”

“Maybe. But he won’t answer the mirror. And I have a funny feeling.”

Remus sat in front of the fireplace, legs folded beneath him. “A funny feeling like when Sirius surprised you with twelve cursed clown dolls on April Fools?”

“A funny feeling like when he was disowned,” James said grimly, and Remus could see he was chewing his lip, a distinctly un-James like habit. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

“You think he’s in danger,” Remus said softly, fingers curling around his wand.

“I do.”

“Have you sent a patronus?”

James shook his head. Remus rubbed at his eyes and tried to quell a rising tide of bile. “I’ll send one. Come over. If he doesn’t answer, we’ll go looking.” 

Remus stood and cast the charm, watching a bright and silvery wolf fill the front room. “Sirius, send word immediately. It’s urgent,” he said. The wolf disappeared as James came out of the fireplace.

They waited ten minutes, then fifteen. Sirius did not reply.

—

Sirius vaguely saw a shimmer of silver and heard a familiar voice, but then he was dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, and the pain of it resounding in his head distracted him. Something was wrong in his head. He had been hit plenty of times, but not with this kind of ache, the kind of pain that transformed the world around him into a dream.

“Out,” the sharp voice commanded, and there were footsteps. A moment later hands jerked Sirius up into a sitting position, and the bright eyes were back. “So you’re the one.”

“Wassat?” Sirius asked. “You got four eyes?”

“Suppose he doesn’t like you for your brains, hmm?” The voice asked. “Or maybe Paulbo hit you too hard.”

“Hitting isn’t nice,” Sirius mumbled. He lost himself in noises for what could’ve been hours or minutes or something outside of time altogether. After some of this, the voice forced something into his mouth. He struggled on principle. It didn’t work. A taste of cotton candy filled his mouth, and the ache in his head receded, not entirely, but enough to think.

He looked up at the werewolf—certainly a werewolf, with scars like that and those eyes—in front of him. He was handsome, nearly. He watched Sirius with one eyebrow raised. 

“Where’d you get that from?” Sirius asked, licking the last of the potion from his lips.

“Stole it. Can’t let wizards have all the fun. And you know how it is after the Moon.” The man crouched and smiled, sharp toothed and dangerous. “Don’t you?”

—

“Tell me where the fuck he was last, Smathers, or so help me I will blast your balls right off,” James snarled.

“You’re off duty, which makes that information private,” Smathers repeated stubbornly.

Remus understood now why Sirius hated the man. He wore his auror robes even when he was at home. He cited a policy for everything he did. He cleared his throat far too often. He introduced himself as _Auror Smathers_ to James, who had trained him. Remus wanted to break his face.

“Smathers!” James roared, his knuckles white on his wand.

“According to Code 852a all aurors on maternity _or_ paternity leave-“

“Break his legs,” Remus said flatly.

James turned his head towards Remus, his breath coming hard and panicked. Smathers looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Assault of an auror is highly illegal,” Smathers said.

“I don’t care,” Remus said, in what was almost a polite tone, and then he smiled, showing all his teeth. “I don’t care at all, Auror Smathers. Either you tell me where Sirius was last, or I will break every fucking bone in your body, and even St. Mungos will not be able to put you back together. Do you see?”

Smathers gaped at him, searching for a code that would save him from Remus’ wrath. He looked at James, who stared back expectantly, as if he wouldn’t stop Remus and might help him with the femurs. Finally, he sighed. “Thinks he’s so clever. He popped off towards Amhurst. Thinks there was something odd going on there. It’s just a lot of muggles.”

“And you didn’t go with him?” James hissed. “Your partner thought there was something funny and you didn’t go with him?”

“He’s _your_ partner,” Smathers said snidely. “I’m just babysitting the resident dark wizard until you get back.”

James broke his nose.

—

Sirius forced himself to focus, although he could only do it in bursts, even with the potion in him. He was in a cave. There were muggle flood lights, bright enough to illuminate everything like daylight. Thick orange cords ran from them to somewhere else, somewhere outside the cave. He knew muggle lights needed electricity (Remus had laughed so fondly when he finally learned to pronounce the word) so they couldn’t be far from some kind of building. Electricity needed walls, or something like that.

The cave was big, big enough that sounds echoed and hinted at other tunnels and chambers. It was probably thirty feet across. The walls were brown, and the ground was dirt and rocks, and it didn’t smell good at all.

It didn’t sound good, either. Sirius could hear the man talking to other people outside the cave. He was outnumbered, and his wand was gone. Worst of all, when he reached for the wandless magic that always tingled in his fingertips, he felt only a light buzz, out of his reach. He wouldn’t even be able to make sparks. 

Sirius told himself not to panic. He had been in worse situations before. He couldn’t think of one, off the top of his head. But he had lived with Walburga Black for sixteen years. Surely he had survived worse somewhere in there.

The man came back, found Sirius testing the ropes that held his hands behind his back. He jerked Sirius up by the arms, and the world spun merrily around him, the ground loose and unanchored under his feet. He stumbled into the man, stomach flipping dangerously. “Going somewhere?” The man asked, reaching for another rope, this one tied to a hook bolted into the roof of the cave.

“I do have commitments tonight,” Sirius said, jerking hard on the ropes, wrenching himself from the man’s grasp. He was strong, and it should’ve worked, but instead he found himself on the ground again, dirt in his mouth. For a beautiful moment his arms were free, untied behind his back, and then they were above his head, and he was back on his feet, and then he was hanging by his wrists from the hook he had seen, his feet dangling off the ground. 

“Do you know me?” The man asked, leaning back against a cave wall and watching Sirius swing with a smirk.

“I know you’re an asshole,” Sirius said, proud of himself for the effort it took to be smarmy with so little of his wits about him.

The man laughed, dry and displeased, and cracked his knuckles. “My name is Fenrir.”

First there was a rush of pleasure at connecting the dots: Fenrir Greyback was a werewolf, wanted by the Ministry, someone he knew about as an auror. Then a rush of anger: Fenrir Greyback was the monster who had bit Remus, who still haunted his nightmares, had made his life a living hell. “Fuck you,” Sirius said venemously.

“So Remus _has_ told you about me,” Greyback said, and sounded pleased. “I thought I might be his dirty little secret.”

Sirius spat at him. He had excellent aim for a man with a head injury: it landed right on Greyback’s cheek. Fenrir stilled. Then he moved fast, like a lightning strike, launching himself off the wall and punching Sirius hard in the kidneys, the ribs, blow after blow landing until his knuckles bled and Sirius’ world had turned raw with pain.

—

James and Remus walked silently across the field, tracing Sirius’ footsteps by magic and by smell. They had got the name of the village from Smathers, his mouth full of blood, and the field wasn’t too far a guess. There _was_ magic there, a low enough flickering that it was a wonder Sirius had seen it. Except, Remus thought grimly, if you were trying to make a trap for Sirius Black, you’d flash a lure and make him feel clever for seeing it. Someone knew what they were doing.

Sirius’ footsteps led straight to an old barn, and Remus crouched low next to James, the Invisibility Cloak barely covering the two of them. Whatever happened to Sirius, they wanted to take it by surprise. 

James nodded at the barn, and Remus stopped to listen. But inside there was only the sound of wind and creaking boards. Remus crept right to the edge of the barn, caught a whiff of Sirius’ aftershave against the boards. He had been here.

Remus nearly tripped, and let out a rush of air as he grabbed at James for stability. James hissed as he straightened Remus, wobbling perilously, both of them nearly tumbling into a heap. When he got his balance back, he felt around for the thing that had caught his foot in the first place: a stray board, thrown down into the grass, one end wet with blood.

—

Sirius was having a hard time breathing. A sharp pain shot through his side every time he took in air. He had broken his ribs before; he knew the feeling. The angle he was forced to hang at was excruciating. There was blood in his mouth. He wished he had called Smathers for back up.

Greyback lounged against the wall, watching him try to catch his breath. He looked amused. He was smoking a cigarette, taking long drags and blowing the smoke up into the air. “How do you think Remus is going to feel?” He asked.

“I’ll kill you,” Sirius groaned. “I’ll kill you if you touch him.”

Greyback laughed long and loud. “Will you? And how will you do that?”

“My teeth.”

“I think that’s my arena, don’t you?” He flashed his teeth, sharp canines glinting. Another long drag on the cigarette.

Sirius reached again for magic. As a boy he had been prone to outbursts of it when he was angry. Once Orion had taken his belt to Regulus, and Sirius had blasted apart an entire sitting room before he could think about it. Walburga had tried to beat the habit out of him, although McGonagall’s training with wandwork was more successful. She had spent countless hours training him how to channel the emotion through his wand, to cast it where it couldn’t hurt someone. It became a challenge. Instead of exploding, he transfigured: pillows into soft teacups, statues into moving porcelain animals, curtains into broomsticks. It had made him a better wizard, and he passed his transfiguration classes without ever opening the books.

Now he tried to unlearn it, to explode. And when he felt nothing, not even a fizzle, he tried to transform.

Changing into Padfoot was as effortless as dropping to all fours. It was like exhaling. It was so ingrained in him that he rarely had to think it through before he was barking and running.

Usually.

He groaned, and Fenrir mistook it for one of pain, and laughed. “Don’t worry, pup. I don’t intend on hurting little old Remus. Not physically. No, see, I said to him a while back, Remus, it’s time for you to join my pack. And do you know what he said?”

“Stick it up your arse.”

“I think it was about _your_ arse. Because he told me no. He said no to me.” Fenrir’s eyes were cold. “And when I thought about why, I thought, there must be something holding him back. Holding him in that world of bullshit and illusion. So I did some digging. And you know what I found?”

Sirius threw his head back in soundless rage. Padfoot was gone, or hidden, the magic twisted. The world was going dark around the edges and he was no better than a fucking muggle. 

“I found you. A wizard. A _human_.” Fenrir snarled the words like they were a bad taste in his mouth. “He said no to me for a human. And I am going to show him what a mistake that was.”

—

Remus walked with his eyes closed, heart slamming against his ribs. He told himself to stay calm. He told himself to focus. He told himself that if he didn’t, Sirius would die, and the stab of pain in his chest blotted his world out to white. He took in a measured breath, and held the possibility in his hands, and kept looking.

Prongs walked next to him, a stag’s footfall nearly silent in the patch of woods beyond the barn. He kept one hand on Prongs’ flank, and together they took in the forest, chasing the last embers of Sirius on the wind.

—

Sirius fought against unconsciousness, but it was a losing battle, and he flickered in and out. He thought about Remus, and lunged toward awareness, but came sliding back down into the dark again. He startled when Fenrir came closer, ripping the remains of Sirius’ shirt off. “Don’t worry,” Fenrir said, nearly friendly. “I’m just letting Remus see the consequences of his actions.”

“Eat a dick,” Sirius mumbled.

Fenrir shrugged. “Probably have. Enough Moons go by, you lose track of the anatomy. It’s all a mess of blood by morning.”

—

They stopped in unison. Voices. Light.

Two women and a man, shuffling around a rocky outcropping. No. Keeping lookout. Remus knew them in a rush, all Fenrir’s, and instinctively looked to the moon. It wasn’t full yet; he couldn’t turn Sirius. 

But he could kill him. 

Remus moved before he could think, laying them out with three sharp stuns. As the third collapsed silently on the forest floor, James transformed, antlers replaced with glasses. He looked to Remus for explanation, but Remus pointed insistently at the rocks, where a small opening could be seen, what seemed like daylight leaking out into the dark forest.

—

Sirius knew he was crumbling, because when he opened his eyes next, there was a stag, sleek and brown velvet, ornate antlers high enough to touch the cave ceiling.

It walked in carefully, hesitant, high steps like it was listening for branches to break. Sirius and Fenrir both stared at it, too dumbfounded by its presence to understand what was happening, until Remus Lupin came bursting out from behind it, followed by a wave of pure, furious magic.

—

Remus threw himself at Greyback, teeth and claws. He was smart enough to know he needed magic to win, but angry enough to try first with his teeth. He landed on top of Greyback, snarling and swinging, his fist smashing into Greyback’s jaw and then grabbing for his throat. Greyback was strong, kicked his legs hard enough to send Remus flying. Remus scrambled up. He drew his wand and roared a string of curses, things he had made Sirius learn to stop him if he got out of control near the Full, curses designed to stop a werewolf minutes before transformation. The cave blazed with blasts of orange and red light, bright enough to outshine the muggle work lights, which exploded with a blast and sizzled like bacon on a pan. Greyback screamed in pain and fury, bindings appearing on his arms and legs, his bones neatly unpopping from their sockets to render him powerless but not permanently damaged. It was clean magic. Remus watched Greyback crumple in on himself and he kept going, curse after curse, ropes over ropes on Greyback’s limbs, stun after stun knocking him senseless. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to empty himself of magic just to watch the monster who had ruined his life die.

But he did stop, finally, panting and shaking with the effort. He wanted to kill Greyback, and he could. James would never turn him in. But that wasn’t why he had come, and the last flash from his wand illuminated Sirius Black at the far side of the cave, strung up like a sacrifice to the god of the full moon.

—

The lights hurt his eyes even worse than the muggle lights had. There was screaming, and the deer was gone, and everything went so bright. The ache in his head had grown again, the potion wearing off or the damage growing worse, he wasn’t sure. He was tired. It had been a long day.

“Padfoot,” Remus said urgently, in that tone he had never been able to ignore. That tone had woken him up from dead sleep, and stopped him mid-rampage, and caught his attention in the most crowded of places. He opened his eyes.

Remus was there, and James too, and he was so glad to see them that for a minute he didn’t mind how badly everything hurt. He sighed. “There you are.”

He closed his eyes again, and opened them in St. Mungos.

—

Remus watched the healers work Sirius over. His chest ached. So much was broken. Magic could heal internal damage, but Sirius had felt it, had felt his ribs splinter, and the thought made Remus so angry he could hardly breathe.

Before the healers were done James arrived, having stayed back until Moody and Frank could find the cave and help him transport the four werewolves to holding cells. James sword to him that Greyback would not escape this time. When he came to sit beside Remus in the small white room at St Mungos, he nodded once to answer the unspoken question. That was something, at least. The Ministry would not be kind to Greyback. Remus wished he was dead, but Azkaban was a decent substitute.

Remus and James sat in silence for the better part of an hour, and they knew Sirius would be alright when he began to protest and push at the healer’s hands. “Get off of me,” he slurred, kicking his feet and flailing his arms, although without much strength. “I know my rights!”

—

Sirius tried to attack the monsters that were keeping him on the weird white table, but their hands were very strong. “Nooooo!” He shouted, grabbing one by the arm. “This is illegal!”

“Padfoot.” There was that voice again, cutting through the daze. 

He looked around and found Remus’ golden eyes looking down at him. “Moony,” he murmured. “These aliens-“

“They’re healers. Stop fighting.”

Sirius whined high in his throat, shaking his head. “Don’t like healers.”

“I know, love,” Remus sighed, touching his cheek, and wasn’t that delightful, Remus’ soft fingers against his face? Much better than alien monsters. “But stop fighting anyway. For me.”

Sirius wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the heart. He was so tired, and things did hurt, his chest and his arms and more parts than he could name. He sunk against the bed and let the monsters go on.

—

They took shifts, dozing fitfully in spurts. Sirius was far past unconscious, potions holding him in sleep while his insides realigned. His broken ribs had punctured a lung. The healers said it would heal overnight, but that he’d feel less pain if he slept. Still, Remus and James waited, in case the potions wore off, in case something went wrong. They hadn’t been there when the damage was done. They would be there now.

Near dawn, Sirius began to mumble, twitching his legs like a dog in a dream. James was dozing in his chair, head thrown back against the wall, mouth open, but Remus was awake, and he rose, moved to Sirius’ bed side. “It’s alright, love,” he murmured, fingers smoothing down Sirius’ arm. “You’re with me. Dream of good things.”

Sirius sighed, but he stopped moving on the bed, and his chest rose and fell with the deep, easy breath of sleep,

—

Sirius woke up, and he was not in a cave, and that was truly excellent news.

He did hurt in very many places, but it was a duller ache than before. It didn’t hurt to breathe. And his thoughts were running straight again, no longer bent and wild. Best of all, he could feel the tingle of magic accessible to him. He knew instinctively that he could change to Padfoot quick as a breath. He hummed, and tried to sit up.

“Easy!” James was there so fast he might’ve apparated, fingertips light on Sirius’ chest, holding him back. “Easy, Pads. Lay back.”

Sirius frowned. James had that look he got when he was stressed, and his eyes were red from crying. “Harry okay?” Sirius asked.

“What? Yeah, he’s fine. How are you feeling?”

“And Lily?”

“She’s fine, Sirius. Does your head hurt?”

“Why were you crying?”

James looked at him like he was stupid, then looked away, rubbing one hand over his mouth. “I found you half dead tonight.”

Oh. Right. “I’m alright, Jamie. Don’t fret.”

“You _aren’t_ ,” James said, his eyes welling up again. “You aren’t okay. You’re hurt. I could’ve lost you. You didn’t take anyone. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”

“I hate Smathers,” Sirius said, but James was crying and that was the worst thing, the very worst thing, so he added, “Sorry. Won’t do it again.”

“If you can’t work with Smathers then I’m coming back-“

“Noooo, no, no,” Sirius shook his head and regretted it, pain bouncing off the walls of his skull. “You got a baby. I’ll work with him.”

“You _didn’t_ work with him though! You ended up in a cave beaten half to death and if Remus hadn’t scented you out we would’ve lost you! Do you understand?” James was yelling, and that was a bad sign. James never yelled at Sirius. 

Sirius reached out, wincing as he did, his arm heavy and achey, and grabbed at James’ hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I promise. Never again.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear.”

“Swear on your honor as a Marauder.”

Sirius winced. “I swear on our friendship, James. I swear. Never again.”

James let out a long breath, rubbing tears off his cheeks and from beneath his glasses. “Alright,” he said, his voice choked, sniffling and trying to regain his composure. “Okay then.”

“James?” Remus called, groggy. “Alright?”

“He’s awake.”

There was a noise of a chair being shoved back against a wall and then Remus was on him, fingers on Sirius’ jaw, his cheek, touching him so tentatively, like he might break. “Sirius,” Remus breathed it like a prayer. “Are you hurting? I can call for more potions.”

“I’m okay,” Sirius said. “I’m thirsty.”

“On it,” James said, turning and striding towards the door like fetching a glass of water was the most critical mission he had ever been given.

“Tell me how you’re feeling. Tell me honestly.” Remus commanded, his eyes feverish and golden. “Where does it hurt?”

“Just about everywhere,” Sirius admitted, “but less than before. What happened to Greyback?”

“James took him to Azkaban,” Remus said impatiently. “The healers said you might have a residual migraine. Do the lights hurt your eyes?”

“I’m okay, Rem,” Sirius said, reaching out to capture Remus’ hand and pull it, with effort, to his cheek. “I’m okay.”

—

The healers released him mid-morning. They wanted to keep him longer, for a couple days at least, but Sirius was extremely difficult when confined, and he had a reputation at St. Mungos. James paid for a healer to make enough house calls to get Sirius out the doors before noon. 

“I’ll be fine,” Sirius insisted when they offered him a wheelchair, forcing himself to his feet. Remus could hear the soft, punched out noise he made under his breath.

James looked torn in two, and glanced nervously at his watch. “Moony, I have to go check on Lily. She’s been alone with Harry all night and he’s having trouble nursing and—“

“Go, Prongs,” Remus said soothingly. “I’ll take him home.”

“But if you need-“

“We’ll send word. Go on.”

James cast a nervous look at Sirius, who winked, before throwing up his hands. “If you two get into any trouble I’ll gut you,” he said, and disapparated.

Sirius laughed, taking small steps, wobbly on his feet. Remus wanted to pick him up, and he was strong enough to do it, but the ensuing tantrum wouldn’t have been worth it. Instead he watched Sirius walk, pain nearly radiating off of him, until they got to the end of the ward. He pulled Sirius to his chest and disapparated straight to their flat,

Normally Sirius complained about sidealong, but this time he just leaned his head on Remus’ chest and let out a long breath. Sirius always pretended not to be hurt; whether it was getting knocked clean off his broom by a bludger or a howler from Walburga, he would always laugh like it didn’t matter, like he was untouchable. It was only when he was alone with Remus that he would break, crying in Remus’ bed after being disowned, coming home from auror training covered in bruises and letting Remus rub salve over his sore limbs. Alone in their flat, the bravado went out of Sirius, and he sagged against Remus wordlessly.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Remus said, kissing his temple. Sirius didn’t protest, not even when Remus picked him up and carried him. Sirius was tall and heavy, but it was so close to the full moon and anyway, Remus would’ve carried all of Gryffindor House just to get Sirius back into a soft bed.

He laid Sirius on his side of the bed, a few flicks of his wand plumping the pillows and warming the blankets around him. Sirius’ eyes slid closed again, like getting from one bed to another had worn him out entirely. “I’m alright,” he murmured, as if reading Remus’ thoughts. “Just need to rest a while.”

“Good idea,” Remus said. “If you need me–“

Sirius’ eyes shot open, and he patted Remus’ side of the bed insistently. “You too,” he said, and Remus knew from that tone, which he had heard after any number of full moons, that if he didn’t get in bed, Sirius would not rest a wink. But he was exhausted, really, adrenaline wearing down and bone deep tired waiting beneath it.

“Alright,” Remus agreed, pulling his jumper over his head, shedding his trousers. “If it will help you sleep.”

He crawled into bed, mindful of the patchwork of healing bruises on Sirius’ torso. “Turn tables,” he said softly, remembering how many days Sirius had spent in the Hospital Wing, keeping Remus company while he healed.

Sirius sighed, squirming closer to Remus. “Glad you found me,” he murmured, which was likely as close as he would get to admitting he had thought he would die. “Glad you came.”

“I’ll always find you,” Remus whispered fiercely. “We’ll always find each other.”

—

Sirius slept in deep patches, waking suddenly and falling asleep just as quickly. When he woke, he groped out for Remus, and as soon as he felt him—sometimes sleeping, sometimes reading—he fell asleep again. He didn’t dream. 

An indeterminable amount of time later, he awoke and Remus was gone. A surge of something like fear filled his chest, and he forced himself up, ignoring the sharp pop of pain that ran through him. He scrambled out of the bed, falling hard on his knees, and swallowing a small cry of agony because _shit_ he was a mess, he hadn’t hurt this bad since he was disowned, and where was Remus? If Greyback had found him, Greyback could find Remus. Sirius wasn’t afraid to die and he wasn’t afraid to be hurt, but the thought of Remus being the one strung up, the one tasting blood–

“Why the hell are you out of bed?” Remus demanded, dropping a platter of tea and toast to rush over to Sirius. “Where the fuck are you _going_?” He half-shouted.

Sirius grabbed him with one arm, trusting his other arm to hold him up, and that was a mistake, really, because it didn’t, and he hit the floor face-first. He groaned. Remus lifted him again, manhandling him back into bed, tucking the covers around his shoulders like they were restraints. “You have to stay in bed, Sirius. Merlin, I shouldn’t have to tell you that. You can’t go wandering off!”

“You weren’t here,” Sirius said tiredly.

“I had to take a piss and make some food. I was ten feet away.” Remus stood back and frowned down at him, brushing hair from Sirius’ face. 

“I thought…” Sirius looked away and swallowed. “I thought you might need me.”

“I might need you to stay and bed and not break anything else,” Remus said gruffly, but he bent down and kissed Sirius. “Daft dog,” he said with more affection than anger. 

Sirius sighed contentedly when Remus settled down next to him. “How many days till the Full?” He asked.

“Padfoot, you’re barely able to stand.”

“How many?”

“You _aren’t_ really able to stand.”

“ _Remus_.”

“It’s tomorrow,” Remus sighed. “And you aren’t coming.”

Sirius forced his eyes open and glared over at Remus. “I let those healers work me over for you.”

“You needed that!”

“And you need me. I’m coming.”

Remus flung one arm over his face and groaned in deep, deep annoyance. “I’ve met flobberworms with more survival instincts than you.”

“Mmm. But were they as handsome?”

“Handsomer.”

“Liar.”

“I thought you might be dead,” Remus said suddenly, softly. “When I realized who had you. I thought he would kill you, and it’d be my fault.”

Sirius frowned, and with some effort grabbed Remus’ hand, linking their fingers together. Lily had been teaching him about listening, so he said nothing, and waited for Remus to continue.

“I would never forgive myself,” Remus said. “I would never recover from that. It was too close.” He rolled to his side and looked at Sirius intently. “Please stay home. Please rest. I need you.”

Sirius looked at Remus’ open, vulnerable expression and knew he was defeated. “Alright,” he said tiredly. “Just this one time.”

Remus sighed, relieved, and kissed him. “Just this one time,” he agreed. “And any other time you get kidnapped.”

“Well I wasn’t planning to make a habit of it,” Sirius grumbled.

Eventually Remus got up to make more toast, and brought back a book for them to read—Jules Verne, one of Sirius’ favorite authors. Remus read aloud until the potions took Sirius back under for a deep and healing sleep, and then Remus fell asleep too, both of them warm in the moonlight streaming through the windows.


End file.
